Going Together
by SeeASea
Summary: There is a comfortable rhythm to Jack and Amy's life on the island, but Jack worries. Does he pull his weight? Does Amy think him helpful? Thus far they have stayed close at a comfortable distance, but now Jack is thinking about reaching out.


Going Together

[Lost in Blue Take Two, JackXAmy]

Soundtrack: Speak – Gary Go

Amy.

She was gone, exploring the jungle after our day out there before. We had exhausted ourselves shoving trees for ledges and climbing to the plains we discovered.

Those plains… the giant tree. The ropes I was forming in my hands as I sat in front of the fire were either for beds or for the home we hoped to make there.

Home. We had discussed home so many times together before, walking from the river, combing the beach, fishing. The friends and family we had been wrested from. But now the cave was beginning to feel like home too.

But it didn't quite feel like home now. I blinked and felt my dried eyes, put down the rope, took a drink from a bottle which had washed up on shore and which she had filled, and then rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. There they stayed, and I slumped forward, elbows on my knees. The shell necklace touching my wrists was cool to the skin. She had knack for making the random shells washed ashore form a comforting pattern, and I tried to do the same when I picked up shells searching for food. She said I was better at it than her.

Fire popping. The crackle, like the snap of alligator teeth, where she saved us and where I felt useless to her. And she said she was just glad to see I was safe. My mouth dried again, and I took another disconsolate swig. I would probably cook tonight, even if she insisted. She was gone late. Staring meditatively in the fire, grabbing the rope again, I prayed she was safe. Every once and a while she would make a long trek on her own, and it was hard.

Why did it not feel as much like home now? She wasn't here. Amy. I would have to tell her someday that I could never imagine living and surviving on an island with anyone else. The girls I used to go with? Too energetic at the wrong time like this, and I would be like this all the time. But only when Amy wasn't here. Not by my side. I could not imagine going without her now. I touched the necklaces hanging by my chest. We had a rhythm together that just… worked on this deserted island. It wasn't so deserted with each other for company and companionship, going together.

Going together. She was always the one with the gesture, the movement of the head, the spoken word to stick close. We would always just walk together, gravitating in a small orbit. It's not like I couldn't lead, like I was totally helpless. Amy just held it all together so well. I bit my lip, recalling the mushroom. Was I a simpleton in her eyes?

I grabbed another vine. No, she didn't look at me like that.

Look at me like what? I looked at her all the time, and I wondered if she noticed what my eyes might convey. Sometimes she would lay down on the other side of the cave (I glanced over to her spot, empty, over to the cave entrance, darkening), and I would stay awake, watching her breathing slow to a steady rhythm. It would help me, to watch that steady rhythm and think of her strength. Did I weigh her down with my dependence?

I threw down the finished rope and walked out of the cave, indignant and trying to clear my head. I helped her. I watched the fire, I explored, I gathered food just like she did, I cooked, and I made materials which she implemented. My shoes swished through the thick grass, my mind swirled through the clouds and the cartoon stars and birds. After taking a drink at the river, I walked down to the beach, the real stars beginning to shimmer and reflect upon the ocean. I saw a few shells on the beach and picked them up… maybe I could return the favor of her latest gift?

I kicked a stone into the water, at first angry but then sinking into depression. We were close now, good friends, and we relied on each other for things. I was not useless. I did not weigh her down. I did not. I did not. I did not. Each wave brought another affirmation.

"Jack!"

I whirled around, and there she was. Amy. And while I'm sure she was covered with dirt from the day and sweat from the exertion and disheveled, none of it mattered. She was home. I felt frozen, from my thoughts and from her appearance from them.

"Are… are you okay? You weren't home, and I was afraid something could have happened." Relief gushed through her words, and even though she was tired she smiled.

"Do I worry you so much?" Bitterness bled through and my state of mind was laid out before her.

She stepped forward, looking into my face through the dusk, "Jack, I worry about you as much as I'm sure you worry about me, when we're apart or when something happens."

I nodded stiffly and began walking down the beach. She walked beside me, picking up shells and rock salt as we passed them. I cleared my throat, "I'm sorry, I haven't even asked how your day was."

"Oh! Well, nothing really new. I brought home some jungle fruit to try, and I added to the tree house. It's coming together nicely, and we should be able to move there sometime. There were some squirrels and ducks in the traps. Tomorrow we can go together to forage. How was your day?"

"I finished those ropes that you asked me to make, and so maybe we could get the beds together tonight. I made another basket, and I can cook dinner tonight, if you'd like."

We lapsed into silences as the waves lapped onto the beach. It wasn't strained though, it was a comfortable quiet. Darkness was enveloping, and I knew at some point Amy would ask me to stay close. And we would just stand together, walk together, close but not close. So I took a deep breath of the salty ocean air, tried to dig up wells of confidence (what if she threw my hand away?), and said, "It's getting dark… We should go together for the rest of the evening." I reached out and laced my fingers with hers, which were calloused but gentle. It was not a gesture of absolute necessity. Clasping palms would suffice in utter darkness, and walking close would in this case. It was a gesture of need and care.

From the corner of my eye I could see her expression change, at first surprise. I was afraid. And then she looked over at me. I diverted my eyes. I was embarrassed. And then I looked over again. She was looking ahead with a smile, and a dusting of a blush. I was joyful, and my heart raced ahead of our footsteps in pace. She squeezed my hand and I squeezed back. We headed back home for cooking, eating, and taking stock, preparing for the next day of survival. We walked home-

Going together.


End file.
